“Thank you, Detective,” she said. “Thank you very much.”
Pulling out of the parking lot, Daniels erupted, and punched the wheel with a clenched fist. Her cheeks had turned crimson, and her breathing was accelerated.
“What’s wrong?” Lancaster asked.
“Everything,” she said in a rage. “That son of a bitch is lying!”
Chapter 6
“Slow down, before you hit someone,” Lancaster said.
Hell hath no fury like a woman lied to. Beth slammed the brakes so hard that he might have flown through the windshield had he not been strapped in. The street was empty, and she threw the vehicle into park and turned sideways to look at him.
“Switch places with me,” she said.
“You want me to drive back to your father’s place?”
“Please.”
Soon he was behind the wheel and using his memory to drive back to Martin’s home. Beth looked ready to explode, and he found himself feeling bad for Sykes. It was a crime to lie to an FBI agent, and the detective’s life was about to become a living hell.
“You want me to stop, get you something to drink?” he asked.
“No. Just be quiet, and let me calm down.”
“I didn’t like him either.”
“Sykes is a god damn snake. He erased my father’s cell phone.”
“Why would he do that?”
Beth’s voice cracked, and tears flowed down her cheeks. She was heading toward a meltdown, and on the next block he pulled into the parking lot of a Starbucks, and hustled inside. A minute later he emerged with a strawberry scone and a brownie the size of a small brick, which he handed to her on a napkin. In his other hand were two bottled waters, which he placed into the cupholder. She dug into the sweets.
“That was fast,” she said.
“I flashed my badge and told them it was an emergency, so they let me cut in line.”
“That’s going to get you in trouble someday. Want some?”
“No thanks.”
Soon the scone was reduced to crumbs. She bit into the brownie and emitted a happy groan. “This is so decadent. Thank you.”
“How can you be sure Sykes erased your father’s cell phone?”
“My father was something of a Luddite,” Beth said. “He disliked computers and smartphones, and still wrote on a typewriter. He believed the digital age was making people dumber instead of building intellect. He also despised social media and refused to have his own Facebook page.”
“How does this make Sykes the culprit?”
“I’m getting to that part. Last bite. Sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m good. You just downed two thousand calories. How do you stay so thin?”
“I’ve never had a problem with my weight. A few months ago, my father called me up, and said he wanted to buy a smartphone, and would I help him. He’d gone into a Verizon store, but the salesman was useless, and just confused him. That led him to call me.”
“Why would he want a smartphone if he was a Luddite?”
“My father said that Nicki had begged him to get one, so that he could have it in case of an emergency.”
“Makes sense. Did you help him?”
“Yes. I came down for a weekend, and we bought a phone together, and I showed him how to operate it. Dad didn’t even know how to power it up. Smartphones are designed by people who assume you’ve owned one before, or know that there are instruction tutorials on YouTube. My father was completely in the dark.”
Beth took a drink of her water. She was back to being herself, her voice calm and measured. “The phone had several preinstalled apps, including a couple for online casinos, which really ticked him off. I tried to show him how to uninstall them, and he said, ‘I don’t need to learn that. You do it.’”
“He actually said that?”
“Yep. My father had to be dragged kicking and screaming into the digital age. The less he had to learn about it, the better.”
“So your father didn’t know how to uninstall the app on his phone.”
“No, he did not. Even if he had, it wouldn’t have been something that he would have done before taking his life.”
He took his bottled water from the holder and screwed off the top. “Do you remember which apps were on your father’s phone?”
She closed her eyes, thinking hard. “There was an app for emails, and another for text messages. He had his retirement money with Vanguard, so I installed their app so he could look at his accounts. He liked to follow hockey, and I installed a sports app. I also installed the Weather Channel app so he would know if a storm was heading his way. And he had me install an app called Gallery so he could store photos and videos.”
“Of what?”
She opened her eyes. “Come again?”
“Your last sentence doesn’t make sense. Your father was motivated to buy a cell phone by his granddaughter. He didn’t know how to use it, and wasn’t in a hurry to learn. Yet for some reason, he asked you to install an app that would let him store photographs and videos. That meant he was intending to take photos and videos with his cell phone, and store them. Of what?”
“I have no earthly idea.”
“Was he into photography?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Bird watching?”
“No.”
“Did he enjoy photographing pretty girls?”
“Are you implying that my father was a dirty old man that enjoyed taking pictures of young women? You’re out of line, Jon.”
“I’m just trying to help you figure out what’s going on.”
Beth shot him a murderous glare. He’d seen that look before, and knew the conversation was about to turn ugly. He began to back out of the space.
“Stop,” she said.
He pulled back in and threw the car into park but left the engine running.
“I quit,” he said.
The words stunned her, and she struggled to reply.
“You can’t...,” she said.
“You want my help, you’ll answer my questions. Otherwise, I’d suggest you call the FBI agents from the Jacksonville office, and get them to assist you.”
She squeezed his forearm. “I want you, not them.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’m sure.”
“Warts and all?”
“Warts and all.”
“Let’s start this conversation over, shall we?” He turned off the ignition. “Did your father ever text you a photograph or video he’d taken? I’m betting he saw some pretty spectacular sunrises from his balcony.”
“He never did that.”
“Did he like to text, or send emails?”
“Hardly. When he wanted to talk, he called.”
The car’s interior was growing warm without the AC, and he rolled down the windows and for a long moment said absolutely nothing.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she said.
“If your father rarely used emails or sent text messages, then the Gallery app would have been the only app on his phone stored with personal information. My gut tells me that Sykes erased the phone to get rid of whatever was on that app.”
“That’s a stretch.”
“Come up with a better scenario. I can’t.”
Beth chewed her lower lip. The conversation had turned uncomfortable, and was making her look at her father in a different light.
“Let’s pretend you’re right, and the Gallery app is the key,” she said. “What do you think was stored on it?”
“Something of recent interest,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father had no interest in owning a cell phone. Then he wants to buy one, and he asks you to help him. He only cared about one app, and that was the Gallery app. Something happened in his life that made him want to start taking photographs, and store them on a cell phone.”